That Was Then: A Second Chance Romance (Fated Loves Book 2)

by Zee Irwin

  I didn’t want to get into this with her now, especially after last night. “Blue92? Oh, it’s nothing. We have a friendly chat now and then, no big deal. It’s not like it’s an actual relationship or anything.”

  I jabbed the next box a little too hard with the box cutter and cut my thumb. Ouch! I hustled over to the sink, ran it under cold water, and then got down the first aid kit to fish for a bandage. I hated to admit to myself that maybe it was a big deal. Blue92 turned me down to meet in person for the second time, first on New Year’s Eve and now for Valentine’s Day, claiming he suddenly had to work. The joke was on me, because I thought after how often we’d chatted over the past several months, we’d reached a level of emotional trust unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

  Meeting in actual life was the next step in the progression of the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in a long, long time, but whatever. I was a business owner with too much to do to waste another minute thinking about this. And I was kidding myself because I knew I’d be stewing about it all day.

  Bev yammered on, not about to let it go. “I’ll understand this. You like him but have seen him. How can you possibly know if you’re attracted to him, or what he smells like after a clean shave, or how warm his hugs are unless you meet? Why, last month I read how a couple got married over the internet and hadn’t spent a single day together, married just like that, thousands of miles apart. What is the world coming to?”

  “Everyone’s busy these days. It’s easier and more convenient to get to know if you like someone online before you meet in person.” It was so true, what some women resorted to these days to find love. At least for me, meeting someone online was the riskiest thing I had ever done, and it wasn’t even intentional. Blue92 stood out to me last summer when we met at Book Lover Forum’s virtual book discussion event. Several people were debating in the chat room about the challenges of modern-day class and gender in America compared to the time of Edith Wharton’s classic novel Summer. Blue92 was amazing, holding his own as the only male among the women in the debate. Afterward, a few of us continued to chat and meet up now and then in the forum, but eventually, it was he and I left chatting together. It was a natural progression how things grew from there between us into an emotional attachment I had no other explanation for than equating it to the feeling of falling for someone.

  I unlocked the front door and switched on the Open sign. Our mailman, Gary, dropped off our daily bundle of bills and newspapers. I was grateful he took Bev away from me for a few minutes so I could focus on stocking the shelves and not on Blue92. But the entry doorbells went off again when a delivery person entered with a few boxes on a dolly.

  “I have a delivery here for Lily Young?” My eyes swept over the tall man clad in a brown uniform filling in the frame of the shop doorway and stopped at his brown hair and brown eyes. Was this him? Blue92’s description of himself with brown hair and brown eyes wasn’t much to go on. It probably described fifty percent of the men I passed by daily on the walk home after work. We had said early in our chats we wouldn’t talk about professions or exchange photos until we were ready, which I was, but was too nervous to bring up, hoping he’d get around to asking me. It didn’t stop my heart from jumping every time I came within ten feet of a man who fit the description.

  “I’m Lily . . . like the flower.” I waited for any hint of recognition. Blue92 would only know me by my online moniker Flower67.

  “Well, I’ve got five boxes here for ya. And they’re heavy. Where do you want ’em?”

  No, this can’t be Blue92. This guy already didn’t sound as cultured as my online friend. “Can you haul them over behind the register? I’ve already got a mess going here with yesterday’s boxes.”

  I watched and waited for another chance to test him. He stacked the last one and handed me his clipboard to sign for them.

  “So, have you read anything interesting lately?”

  His blank face told me all I needed to hear before he spoke. “You mean, like . . . books?” With a scrunched face like the word books was the filthiest word in the English language, he was definitely not my Blue92.

  After both the men left, leaving the store once again in the accomplished hands of the feminine sort, I picked up Boo Boo Bobbin and let my hands stroking her fur soothe my loveless wound. Bev set a cup of tea on the check-out stand for me.

  “You’re right, Bev. Saving myself for some online guy is hopeless. Clearly I’m destined to have unreal relationships, all the book boyfriends and online boyfriends I could ever want, but the real thing.”

  I did well the rest of the day to avoid thinking about Blue92 until I arrived home. Maddie and Emily were the best roommates ever because they left me a little basket filled with heart-shaped chocolates, a bottle of cheap wine, and an order of Chinese food, both feeling sorry for me without a Valentine's date. It was sweet of them to think of me, and I pigged out plenty while spending my evening in bed reading alone.

  My imagination ran wild, letting Blue92 become the latest hero in my book, in each scene and most definitely the steamy parts. I did anything and everything to avoid opening my laptop because this was crazy to be needing someone so badly. He had said he had to work, which was why he couldn’t go out, so I checked the time, thinking maybe he’d be home by now. And if he was thinking of me and online waiting for me, then I hoped he was dying inside too, because I wasn’t online. He could have met me for a late drink or coffee after his work, right, so why was he making no advances to meet after all this time? All I knew was he was like an addiction I couldn’t shake, and I must not have hit rock bottom yet because I wasn’t ready for an intervention. I took my laptop off the charger on my nightstand and loaded the website. And there he was online, waiting for me.

  Preorder All This Time, Fated Loves: Book Three on Amazon today, scheduled for release in August 2021.

  Visit the fated loves series Page for updates on Amazon.

  All This Time, Fated Loves: Book Three

  Preview: Chapter 2

  Jace Delfino

  The roomful of detectives erupted into hoots and hollers after Captain Fergus congratulated the team for their recent arrests in the war on drugs. “Way to go. This op was the next step in the battle to keep the streets of Boston clean. But we can’t let up. And now, we have movement on the counterfeit money sweeping through the city. Detective Delfino will fill you in.”

  “Oorah,” my buddy Travis barked out as I took the lead. We shared a past history in the Marine Corps and it was good to know he always had my back now in the police force.

  “All right, listen up. As you all know, we’ve been successful in arresting two members of a new ring of counterfeit money producers.” I used a laser pointer to highlight the mugshots of two men projected on the screen behind me. “But these two douchebags were the bottom rung of the ladder. This one, Johnny DeMase was released from prison not even a month ago when we caught him trying to pass fake money at a local pub. The bartender and the owner were quick to call me and we got lucky to apprehend Johnny passing the money. Now, we finally got his brother, Ricky DeMase, in custody, who attempted to attack the bartender outside her home. But the funny money is still showing up in banks across the city.”

  Cap took over. “Thanks to special funding from these area banks, we’re able to put together a small task force, headed up by Detective Delfino here. The task force will work with the owners of neighborhood businesses to teach them how to identify fake money, and what to do if they catch citizens in the act of trying to pass the money.”

  Cap and I always had a good rapport, and I took over after he nodded at me. “We’re also working with the FBI on this case. Their profilers believe the women are being used as the money launderers, specifically, middle class women, maybe mothers. It’s unexpected and therefore, the businesses don’t bother checking the money. We hope through this task force we can educate our community and eventually bring down this ring.”

  “Prevention wil
l be the key eventually leading to arrests and will help us build a case against whoever is running this operation. The detective will be in touch with some of you this week to start up the task force.”

  I eyed Travis, he was the one guy in the room I’d want by my side in battle no matter what. Our shared history gave us a bond I’d never have with any of the other officers. Out of habit anytime I thought of the past, I touched the scars on my neck.

  Several guys came up to me after the meeting to put their names in for consideration, all except Travis, but I’d catch up with him later. I stopped Cap before he left the room. “Any word yet if we’re going to get the funding and support to set up a sting operation?”

  “Nah. The DA’s being a prick about this. Says he has bigger fish to fry. I’ll keep working on him. You do your job well so we can be ready when we get the go ahead.”

  Disappointing news, but for now I had my hands full anyway.

  After a grueling week of task force planning, I caught up with Travis at Foley’s Brew Pub, our local hangout. Sometimes I wondered if more work got done at Foley’s than in the office among the detectives.

  Travis started right in. “Hey, look. It’s the funny money guy. What a case, eh? These lousy people can’t make enough money selling drugs, they gotta print it too?” He finished off his beer. I bought the next round.

  “When we catch these guys it’s going to look great on our records.”

  “What’s this we business?”

  “Come on, you’re not backing out of this task force. I’ve already got you on the list, at the top. You owe me.”

  His face turned down and I noticed his eyes fall to my neck. “You know, at some point, we gotta be even. Right? We’ve saved each other’s asses enough times over the years and I’ll always have your back—”

  “And I’ll always have yours.” I raised my full, frosted beer mug and he met it with a Clink! of his.

  “—but I think I’ll stick this one out. You know, Marcie is due soon. I can’t be sticking my neck out too much. I’m keeping my current cases, not getting involved in extra stuff. I want to see my baby boy born. Whatever happens after that happens, but until then, no task force.”

  A baby boy, who I knew would be Trav’s pride and joy, was going to be lucky to get a father like him. But it was hard to think he might have missed out on loving Marcie and this baby if it weren’t for the fact I’d covered for him back in Afghanistan. And now I was left with scars on my neck and chin that most women shied away from. Where was my Marcie and baby? Would I ever get my own wife and kid?

  I’d been through enough therapy to wipe out any jealousies. It was what it was, and there was no use floundering about. I was happy when Trav met Marcie, ecstatic the day they married, and I’ll support the little bugger when he’s born. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Travis asked me to be the godfather. Maybe someday, they’ll do the same for me, if I ever get lucky.

  “I’m sad to hear it, but I totally understand. You’re going to miss out on an awesome sting operation though.”

  He took a sharp glance at me, eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah? You get the approval?”

  “Came in from the DA’s office as I left tonight. It’s full steam ahead. I only have to figure out where to set this up now. What business owner might be civic-minded enough to take a bullet for the other businesses in the area? So to speak.”

  He slapped my back. “And that’s where Jace Delfino’s charm comes into play. No one can resist you.”

  “Yeah right, intimidating yes, charming no.” Oddly enough, the scarring made me one hell of a detective, though, and I’d honed my tough intimidation skill to perfection.

  “Hey, speaking of charming . . . Remember Marcie’s Maid of Honor, Becky? She’s coming to town next week and asked if you’d be coming around.”

  Yeah, I winced at the memory of her. I might have been drunk the night of the wedding, but I could still make out the silhouette of the tall blonde who rode me like crazy. She had to have been drunk by then too, because she certainly didn’t give me one look all day at the wedding. She probably felt sorry for me and my scarred ass. It was a middle of the night mercy fucking on her part.

  “Tell her I’m busy.”

  “What? Come on. It’s been forever since I’ve heard you were on a date.”

  “Maybe I have been and don't tell you when I have. I’m not a blabbermouth like you.”

  “You got someone? Who?”

  Shit, I should never have opened this can of worms with him. “I met someone online is all. Not sure it’s going anywhere.”

  “Online? Great news.”

  “Not really because she’s asked me twice to meet in person. I blew her off both times. I’d be surprised if she talked to me much longer.”

  “Hey I knew this guy once, one ugly mother. He fell in love with a chick online. I figured once they met, she’d run the other way after seeing his ugly mug. But she didn’t. She claimed she loved him and could see past his face. Although rumor had it both his cock and his bank account were loaded, so maybe two out of the three were enough for her.”

  “This isn’t helping. I think you made this shit up.”

  “It’s a true story. Okay look. You’re a gorgeous guy, there I said it. Scarring aside, you are one fine man. Damn, if I had your looks, your Mr. Olympia body, your bank account, and your cock-a-doodle-doo, man I’d be out their fucking half of Boston. My point is, you got more going for you than you think. Meet this girl, see if she’s got what it takes to handle all of this.” He motioned up and down my body. “If she does, then she’s a keeper. If not, then come fuck Becky next week.”

  We shared a laugh and finished our beers, but I still wasn’t convinced I’d ever be brave enough to meet Flower67.

  The minute I walked in the door of my apartment, Sammie trilled at my feet. “What’s up Sammie boy? Bet you’re starved like me.” I set down the pizza I had picked up on the way home and reached for his canned cat food in the cupboard. “Let’s see what you get tonight. How about Salmon Pate?” He chirped his approval as I opened the can and filled his bowl, and then refreshed his water dish. Sammie hunched his big short-haired black body over his bowl and ate it all up. And then I ate up my pizza while Sammie licked his paws. This was our routine. Food first, cuddles later.

  Now, lounging into my couch, I balanced my laptop on a pillow on my left side where my left hand fingers could hunt and peck at the keys. While on my right side, Sammie’s big tomcat body sprawled out across my thigh. He expected constant petting, his loud purring indicating his pleasure as my hand stroked his fur. I stopped petting for a moment to scratch my nose and his purring stalled. His head popped up and he squinted his yellow eyes at me as if he was saying, WTF? Keep petting douchebag. We had a great understanding of each other. Yep, a couple of roommates here, Sammie and I, living the bachelor life.

  I wanted a dog, but I’d never admit it to Sammie. When I first joined the force I hoped to get into the K-9 unit but I didn’t. And then I hoped to get a german shepherd as a pet, but my apartment living and my odd hours weren’t the best conditions for a dog. One night, Sammie followed me home and then stayed around my door for a week. I finally let him in, and he grew on me, and now we were best buds. It was nice to have someone to talk to, and he was a great listener. But someday, I hoped to buy a house and have room for a dog and Sammie would have to learn to live with it.

  “Well, buddy, do you think Flower will be online to talk to me tonight?”

  Sammie dug his claws into my jeans and growled.

  “Yeah I know I was a jerk.”

  When I saw Flower67 was online my heart skipped same as it had done every time since we started chatting. Even though we were going through a rough patch right now, I still felt the hardest working muscle in my body surge blood faster through my veins. Of course, I was the one to blame for her coldish demeanor toward me of late. I’d be cold too if I’d asked her out twice and got rejected. I didn’t even want to think maybe
she’d never ask again or worse, stop talking to me altogether.

  Me: Hey, Flower, how was your day?

  Flower67: Amazing. And you?

  Me: Passable. Busy. Got some great news this afternoon.

  I waited. This was how I knew she was still upset, the distance between chats. Before the whole Valentine’s Day rejection thing she would have asked what made my day, or shared interesting things like some new restaurant she tried with friends, or a new book she was reading. We’d talk about a classic lit book, or a new play or musical at the local theaters, or a concert or art exhibit in Boston. She even had a couple cats and so we had that in common to chat about, like what food to feed them, and the best anti-flea medicine. Occasionally, we’d even cover the news if there was something of interest to share. But we weren’t back to that yet, instead the silence came as I waited. Until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Me: Okay, I know you’re giving me the silent treatment.

  Flower67: You don’t feel you deserve it?

  Me: I know I deserve it. How many times are you going to make me say I’m sorry for not agreeing to meet you?

  Flower67: At least a million more.

  I scratched Sammie’s ears eliciting a louder purr. He closed his eyes and looked pretty damn happy. I blew out a sigh. If only I had a woman like Flower to scratch my itch on a nightly basis. Maybe Trav was right.

  Me: I do want to meet you. Soon.

  Flower67: I question your definition of soon.

  Me: And I question your sanity of wanting to meet me in real life.

  I winced hitting send before thinking of a better response.

  Flower67: Why? Are you an ogre or something?

  Me: Why would you say that?

  Flower67: Say what?

  Now it was my turn to give the silent treatment. She didn’t know what she was saying because she didn’t know I really was an ogre, or the scarred face behind the online mask of Blue92. Still it was a rotten thing for her to say, even as a joke, and I was too sensitive about it.